


Got A Bow On My Panties Because My Ass Is A Present

by watchthequeenconquer



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Choking, Come Eating, Come Shot, Crossdressing, First Kiss, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Leather Kink, M/M, Not Wearing Underwear, Panic Attacks, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Underwear Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 11:45:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18207878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchthequeenconquer/pseuds/watchthequeenconquer
Summary: After midnight, Diego returns from a mission find Klaus on his bed, wrecking a pair of his underwear. The explanation results in a first time for them both.





	Got A Bow On My Panties Because My Ass Is A Present

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a 500 drabble and ended a lot longer and sweeter than I originally intended. Kliego ran away with me! 10 points for the thinly veiled MCR reference included within. Title from Nicki Minaj's 'Get On Your Knees'. Enjoy x

Breaking in through his own window with practised precision, Diego is all keyed up on adrenaline after a ten-seconds-to-midnight perp pursuit. Cursing his own negligence, he’s already announced himself by harshly jamming open the ancient clasp on the window before he realises he’s not alone.

Swearing lightly under his breath, batting away his father’s disapproving voice in his head (‘Sloppy, Number Two.”), kerosene eyes adjust to take a quick head count of the signs of forced entry. Pupils engorged on a natural chemical high survey the door flung open carelessly. The lock has been picked with a hair pin his sister will notice is missing despite owning a thousand identical, quick to possessiveness after growing up in an environment where individual ownership was non-existent. A trail of foreign, mismatched clothing is scattered on the floor near the entry, leading haphazardly to the assailant, candy coloured bread crumbs of evidence screaming FIND ME.

After wasting a grand total of five seconds surveying the scene, Diego’s unimpressed snort dies in his throat, the edge taken off his professional exterior when his gaze finally lands on the bed. In the spot where he’d normally flop down to collect himself post-incident is his brother. He swallows the word down hard, fighting the associated feelings of irritation, embarrassment and endearment that batter at him, that have him feeling hotter under the collar than he should in the chilly evening air. To avoid panic, his mind automatically defaults to his training, in this case, the private lessons his mother taught him. Block out the periphery sentiment, focus on the words and the outcome.

“Klaus.”

The execution is a little off. The introductory tone is too soft, an old habit that still blindsides him occasionally when he lets his guard down in the presence of familiarity. The oversight would startle anyone who had the misfortune to experience his confident-to-the-point-of-arrogance vigilante persona. Having endured the overcompensating posturing that followed his victory over his own speech patterns, his family wouldn’t even blink, might even welcome the reprieve from his macho bullshit.

It isn’t enough to rouse the body on the bed, too enraptured in its own internal struggle. Assessing for any immediate danger quickly, Diego relaxes as much as he can in his hyper sensitised state and observes. The escalating sounds of discomfort disrupting the night time silence, threatening to alert their ragtag collection of pseudo-soldiers residing within in its increasing loudness, are physiological responses rather than a warning of any imminent threat. The lack of drug related paraphernalia and a quick scan for any other surface related injuries settle his suspicions.

Diego shifts slightly closer to investigate for just one more beat while he gathers himself, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. Lathered in sweat, the body beneath him twists and writhes frantically, textbook signs of the brutal come down that getting largely clean after over a decade of abuse has inflicted on it. The failing light from the window gently illuminates his skin, the exposed torso wet with heavily scented sweat that leaves visible pools against the dark sheets.

Vice-tight fists ball in the sheets that wind tighter around his mid-section with every movement and suddenly seize, the sinewy muscles in his naked calves straining in their reduced bid for freedom. His back arches away from the bed, pulling against the restraints, bow-like, as his mouth falls open. The prolonged sound that falls from his too-bitten lips, more high-pitched moan than fever-dream scream, spurs Diego back into action, thankful for the darkness cloaking the warmth rising in his face. His cheeks aren’t the only thing in the room that have suddenly been stained.

“GET UP, KLAUS!”

The second attempt is so much more gratifying, both in the authoritative echo of his voice and the pleasingly immediate response it has on the intended audience. His brother shoots upright, decades of military-style training still remanent in his reflexes, chest heaving too slowly as his body recovers from its previous exertions. His almond-shaped green eyes are shiny, their usual haunted quality softened for a sleepy hazy. Blinking away the final clutches of unconsciousness, they settle on the intruder who has interrupted what looked like the throes of the come down but must’ve been a great fucking dream.

“Oh, hey Batman. Are the streets of Gotham clear of villainy for another night?” Klaus’ sarcastic greeting is a gravelly purr, voice deliciously ruined. Diego does his best to maintain his pissed exterior as Klaus stretches prettily, chewed out lips forming a perfect O as he yawns and glances lazily around him. His gift for insubordination has always made his sibling’s skin crawl, an effortless flag of defiance flying in the face of drilled in behaviour and dire consequences.

“I was just dreaming about a man in leather – not exactly the scenario I had in mind, but you’ll do.” Klaus continues his solo diatribe with an indelicate sniff of his pits as his arms lift languidly overhead. The sheets have pooled at his waist as he shuffles and fidgets. Diego swallows hard despite himself as Klaus’ murky green eyes wander back to him, wash over him appraisingly. He fights not to flinch under the scrutiny, knowing what he knows. Even on the black bedding, there’s no mistaking the fresh and sizeable wet patch.

“So… how was your latest break-and-enter, not at all illegal, night mission thing?” Klaus enquires, obviously assessing the severity of the situation, testing the temperature of his brother’s mood as he unsubtly canvases the room for his things.

It would be way less infuriating if there wasn’t genuine interest in his tone. For his casual airs and mocking, he cannot help but unintentionally revert back to little Number Four who was never quite strong or quick enough in a fight, not built to inflict physical damage like his more senior ranking brothers. No less gifted in different skill sets, his ability to flatter and engage always left Diego completely disarmed even with a weapon in his hand.

“Were the bad guys in costumes or did they go with the old ski mask and commando combo? Did the family offer you a baby to kiss before you had to escape police custody?” Klaus continues excitedly, practically bouncing on the spot. He always had twenty questions lined up before anyone else in the room could begin to form a single response. But seriously, who the hell is that articulate having just blown their load? Fuck. The word blares in his head like an alarm that won’t turn off. Diego grunts, non-committal in response, reflexively removes his belt and begins the calming process of unsheathing his knives. The minute tick in his hand settles under the grounding weight, grateful for the press of the cooling metal against his skin.

“Ooh, did you cut em? I bet you sliced em’ up reallll good.” Never one for an uncomfortable silence, Klaus inhales sharply, doesn’t miss the dangerous glint of the blade in the dull street light. Diego moves instinctively, lightning quick as he carves up the air, severing an artery in the time it would take a civilian to blink as he release his too tight wrists.

“Encore, encore!” It’s not for show, just his own personal wind down but Klaus whistles and claps appreciatively. Praise has always been a rare commodity in this house, hard to come by and quietly cherished when it is. Diego snorts derisively, unable to acknowledge it but hating the flush of warmth it sends from his crown down to the tips of his toes.

“Do you ever shut up?” He mutters, just for something to say, ducking his head down when he catches a glimpse of Klaus’ shit-eating grin, ever combative. Wiping the knives lazily on his pants (this is not the time for a thorough cleaning), he bends to retrieve the silver storage box from beneath his bed.

The uncomfortableness that follows reminds him suddenly of the side effects that the mission has had on his body. It was harder to manage as a teenager - the thrill of responding to the call, the intensity of the fight, the public adulation. As an adult operating covertly, it’s easier, but it still creeps up on him. There’s a reason he lives in the backroom of a gym, indulging in the scent of blood sport while he cleans floors by day. A reason he’s ready to slip between the ropes when a sparring partner fails to show at a moment’s notice, frequent and feral and at home in competition. It’s why even after leaving the Academy, he could never quite let it go. Win or lose, sizing up an opponent and not know who has who’s number, leaving it all out there until you can’t go anymore is what he was made to do.

Normally it takes care of itself in the afterglow, but tonight is different and it shows. Heat burns low and urgent in his stomach. He can feel that he’s still embarrassingly half-hard, the hot confines of his leather doing him little to conceal it. He tells himself it’s just an adrenaline dump as he straightens awkwardly, nothing to do with the findings in his bedroom that he returns his attentions to.

“Was there a lot of blood or did you just go with the tried and true crack their skulls and crush their wind pipe method?” Klaus scrunches his nose adorably, both disgusted and enthralled at his own sickening description. If he’s noticed Diego’s discomfort, he shows a subtly that belies his true character in not acknowledging it. Diego straightens with a sigh, the soreness in his body and his growingly desperate need to relieve himself of his additional afflictions evident in the tense exhale.

“What are you doing in my room, Klaus?” He demands pointedly, eyebrows raised in irritation, arms folded tightly to his chest, the half-moons of his nails digging into his sides. He’s determined to remain in control even as the one-two combo of exhaustion and the edge of arousal are beginning to get to him.

“I can explain...” Klaus begins timidly, thick eyelashes downcast as he trails off. He begins to draw soothing circles in the top sheet with his big toe. The pale length of his bare leg contrasts starkly with the dark covers, the dusting of black hair covering his skin not taking away from the delicate circle of his ankles as he flexes, delaying.

“I’m listening.” Diego tries for patience and comes up short. His rising anger is making him feel too hot all over, the sticky casing of his uniform clinging to him too tightly as his sweat begins to cool. Klaus’ saucer wide eyes flick up at the warning tone in alarm, but sharpen with purpose. He takes in his brother’s appearance, caressing the outlines of his form from his folded arms to his torso (firmly braced), down, down to the uncompromising stance of his aggressively planted legs…

Klaus giggles perceptively, squirming in his place as he lingers of the prominent bulge that just won’t go down in the front of his pants. Diego’s hard gaze is unrelenting, and he resists the urge to punch his dearly beloved brother square in the throat to make sure he can never make those noises again. His dick twitches traitorously at the thought that the violence may not be over for the night.

“Easy, tiger! All that leather has you strapped in a bit too tight, huh? I could help get you out of that.” Klaus murmurs throatily, squirming again in what looks like genuine discomfort and exposing more of his form as the covers slide off.

If his sudden stillness before moving experimentally on the spot again is any indication, he’s just discovered his own wet patch. A shock of surprise crosses his face, but when his features settle, the knowledge has only added colour, eyes even heavier under their kohl rim, nostrils flaring at the suddenly overwhelming scent of sweat and dried cum.

“You can ‘help me’ by explaining why you’ve ruined my sheets.” Diego returns sharply, hands moving to his hips to dig into the skin there. Klaus picks at the material like it’s the most interesting thing he’s seen in his less than ordinary life.

“Standard Academy issue bedding…have these been changed since we were kids? I may have improved them, in a Jackson-Pollock-esque sort of way…”

The feral growl that Diego emits sends Klaus scooting back into the headboard in self-preservation.

“Speak!”

“I needed some underwear.”

“W-WHAT.” Diego chokes out, gagging on his own indignation. Klaus raises his hands in surrender, pre-emptively pleading his innocence. The marker staining his palms is smudged filthily, and the thought that it has probably transferred in the process, invisible but imprinted on the sheets has Diego’s head spinning wildly.

“Well in all fairness, I didn’t realise that the skirt that I had stolen from Allison was sheer…” Klaus begins helplessly.

The unbidden images begin to assault Diego’s senses before he can mount a proper defence, forcing his eyes shut as he attempts to get himself under control. Too late. His memory settles exactly on the skirt that Klaus was describing, discarded amongst the items on his bedroom floor. Sultry black and see through in the maddening line between acceptable and sensual. The few times Diego passed Allison in it, parading herself for Luther with the door cracked open invitingly, a long black slip with a high slit was worn underneath, offering only the barest glimpse of skin but inviting the male gaze to imagine everything underneath it. He can see Klaus in his mind’s eyes, sauntering down the hall. His hips are swaying in the infuriatingly enticing way he gets when he’s pleased with himself, with the fleetingly glimpsed image in the mirror in her room. Laughing to himself at his own cleverness, making his light-fingered escape and getting halfway down the hall, checking himself out again when he discovers it. The ankle-length skirt would flutter intoxicatingly as he ran clumsily for the nearest room. The mad dash coupled with the desperate need to conceal himself, the thrill of being exposed, the rush of the air on his bareness as he ran…

“And you got to this point, how?” It’s an effort to drag his eyes open and unclench his jaw to speak, fixing his cowering brother with a pointed stare.

“Wha-what?” Klaus chooses this moment to showcase that he can in fact show shame, redness spreading down his neck, blooming on his chest in crimson blotches. It’s the most indecent display of false innocence that Diego has ever seen and he advances predatorily without conscious thought.

“Give me a reason. Tell me your washing was in the laundry…” Diego demands, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides in a desperate attempt to remain still. He’s over this invasion of privacy and his body is ready to throw down again and his dick is definitely into it and he doesn’t know why. Klaus is shrinking away, a tremor running through him as his lips tremble, before the words fall out.

“Sometimes you just…forget, you know?” Klaus mewls helplessly and the force of it hits Diego like a punch in the gut. As a defence it’s beyond pathetic, but it’s Klaus here – too tied up in feeling good, desperate to feel anything now that the drugs are gone and brutally honest even with his own wellbeing at stake. His thighs are rubbing together and it temporarily takes Diego’s breath away when he knows without seeing that he’s trying desperately to hide his own erection, getting off on being shamed.

“You’re ridiculous.” Diego grunts dismissively, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. His legs spread to accommodate his weight on the soft surface. He groans visibly as he shifts, twists, the friction offer the briefest respite for his cock, which is straining to involve itself in this strangely shifting dynamic.

“It was a mistake, Diego, I swear!” Klaus ploughs on shakily, self-destructive tendencies leaving him unable to stop, “Your room was the first one I ran into…”

“It was locked.” Diego points out. “A minor, minor inconvenience…I feel like you’re underestimating the severity of the situation…Luther was going to call a team meeting at any minute!” Klaus babbles, transfixed to the headboard and with his gaze on Diego as he shifts slowly closer, cornering him like a scared animal.

“I’m shocked you didn’t go commando.” He sneers, flashing his teeth, the muscles in his shoulders bunching painfully with the effort of restraining himself as he leans closer, hands claws on top of the bedsheets.

“I – please…” Klaus whines, squirming consistently now, making it difficult for both of them to concentrate on the conversation.

“The underwear?” Diego prompts sharply. He needs Klaus to keep talking while runs damage control, figures out how manage this situation and the arousal is clouding his better judgement.

“I found a pair on the floor…seriously, is anything you own not in black? I’m more of a boxers kind of man myself, but beggars can’t be choosers…”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Diego interjects, angrier at himself for his own pettiness derailing the story, unable to keep the huffiness out of his voice, “My drawers are right there and you have no problem going through everyone else’s stuff!”

“Time was ‘of the essence’ as the dearly departed Dad would say! There’s a man that was clearly never caught with his pants down before…” Klaus replies snottily, doing his best imitation of their adopted father’s brogue.

“Really.” Discussing Klaus’ lack of clothing in his childhood bed with unacknowledged boners hanging heavier between them than the weight of their dead, fake father’s disapproval is about all the fucked-up Diego can take right now.

“Is it turning you on?” Klaus purrs with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Diego slamming his fist into the headboard inches from his face has him quickly abandoning that line of thinking.

“We could skip the details and I could just kill you now.” He suggests savagely and punches it again for good measure, grinding his fist into the wood, relishing the stinging in his knuckles.

“No on the Daddy kink…got it!” Klaus bobs his head readily, becoming more animated in his narration again, “So I grabbed a pair off the floor, gave them the good old sniff test, you know?” Ever the class clown, he holds the imaginary item before his face and mimics the motion, nostrils flaring as he inhales, eyes rolling dramatically back into his head.

“You’ve g-got to be kidding me.” Diego stutters in disbelief. Klaus continues to play it up in his usual mission to make everyone else in the room uncomfortable with his sexual advances, groaning loudly as he exhales and pretending to salivate. Diego freezes in horror when he feels his untended dick begin to copy the motion, the unmistakable feel of pre-come drooling from the tip almost stopping him dead in his tracks.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m the one who should be. They were only a little bit ripe and honestly, I’ve always been a sensory being, so that kind of got me going.” Klaus croons with a wink, shifting more upright in preparation to continue his pantomime. The scenario and any grasp of acceptable behaviour is getting away with both of them rapidly. The sheets slip dangerously lower, pooling low on his hips and doing nothing to hide the tenting of his cock.

“I-I’m not…” Diego stammers, wishing that the darkness could hide his stutter like it’s cloaking the blush creeping up his cheeks again. His dark eyes drop obviously to Klaus’ crotch, before shooting back up to his face like the image has burned out his retinas.

“So that predicament added to my other predicament, but the alarm was going to sound at any minute, and when duty calls…! Anyway, I did my best to fit into them, but…they were… too big…not around the waist…but in the…and then…” Klaus finishes lamely, flapping around with his hands uselessly until they flutter into his lap.

“Great story. Did you tell that one at the meeting? Would’ve been a real crowd pleaser.” Diego grits out through his teeth. He’s recovered enough to slip back into his regular demeanour, but he knows he’s too tired and too wound up and he needs to get Klaus out of here before he does something that he’s going to regret tomorrow. Klaus twitches but makes no move to leave, unable to make eye contact and looking horrendously guilty as his mouth continues to run away with itself.

“I-I… never made it.” He murmurs.

“Save it for the family newsletter.” Diego replies flippantly, standing with a stretch that cracks his back deliciously. It’s a bit awkward walking to the door with his boner still pressing insistently against his leg, but he manages, hoping the cue will be enough for Klaus to take the hint and take a hike.

Then Klaus drags his eyes from his lap to meet Diego’s, and it’s a look and a half. Black ringed eyes impossibly huge, bottom too-full lip trembling as he fights to stay silent. He lets out a high-pitched whine, and it’s so apologetic and pained that Diego can’t ignore it.

“What now?” Diego presses, his voice rough, knuckles too tight on his door handle. He’s honestly not sure how much more he can handle in his current state, trapped in a cage of twisted anger and energy.

“I messed up. Made a mess, really.” Klaus whispers. He bites hard into his reddened lower lip, flushed again like his face, then begins worrying at it. Diego wants to stop him hurting himself and help him draw the blood to the surface all at the same time.

“I don’t care. Stop talking.” Diego’s voice goes soft on the request and he knows he’s at his wit’s end.

Then Klaus gets up on his knees, begging to be heard out. The sheets slip and the last remnants of Diego’s conscience go completely offline. The lightly muscled panes of Klaus’ stomach shiver as he pants, still taught despite years of malnourishment and poison. A smattering of dark hair curls its way down his belly to the jagged V of his hips. Hanging off them, sinfully low, are Diego’s black briefs.

“Please…I couldn’t…they kept slipping and I started thinking about how big you are.” Klaus all but moans out.

“I mean, we’ve all seen each other before – sparring, group showers, a pre-pubescent boy’s worst nightmare come to life…so it wasn’t like I was going in blind but…”

“Last warning.” Diego deadpans and he’s moving back towards the bed again, blood thrumming through his ears and heart pounding as his body disobeys his brain’s command to remain stationary, soldier. He strides around to Klaus’ side of the bed and towers over him threateningly. Klaus looks terrified, but can’t stop the gush of words now he’s unloosed them, babbling like he’s speaking in tongues, with a religious fervency.

“You got _big_ , Diego. Luther got all the showy muscles…and you did too…oh, don’t think I didn’t notice your arms, and your shoulders and…I never really thought about it until…” Diego cracks his knuckles, breathing hard through his nose, cracks his neck and Klaus just stares at him. His erection is straining visibly against the black underwear and the cloth is damp.

“I couldn’t help it…the waist didn’t fit right…and they kept slipping off in the front…and I thought about… what it would be like…” Klaus swallows hard, eyes slipping to caress Diego’s front, tracing the outline of his package encased in all that tight leather, half a metre from his face. He unconsciously licks his lips and the twitch in his body returns until his hips are swaying fluidly of their own accord. His hands are up, palms outward, whether in supplication or to attempt to shield himself from the oncoming assault is anyone’s guess. He looks insane and erotic and it’s one of the most captivating things Diego has seen, outside of porn.

“And then I got a bit carried away and-I started touching myself in them. I was going to stop, but it was just t-too good…the door was still open, so anyone could’ve spotted me.” Klaus moans. His left hand twitches and while the other remains up, boy-scout like, the other ducks to rub at his bulge, adding to the wet and mess already staining the material.

Diego is silent, torturously still as he takes in the sight before him.

“Oh, oh, oh, fuck that’s it…” Klaus mutters to himself before remembering the other person in the room, the giant elephant he’s trying to explain away, eyes foggy with desire, “Then I thought about you – f-finding me like…this...while I’m jerking it, messing up your sheets and wrecking your-jocks- oh shit! And I’m grabbing the head and squeezing and thinking I can get a hold on myself…then the siren goes for the meeting and there’s footsteps…shit, shit, shit!” It takes all of Diego’s considerable will power not to grab himself as Klaus whimpers like a bitch in heat and begins pawing at himself, too roughly. “And then I came…and it was…oh, glorious. So glorious, that I woke up on the floor, in a pile of your dirty clothes…and I’m cold and sticky and still in your filthy, ruined underwear, completely wrecked. And…ah, oh fuck, I’m getting close just thinking about it… it was phenomenal, but this is better and soooo totally worth the beating I’m about get…”

Diego launches himself on top of him before Klaus can finish, sending him screeching back into the mattress. Mounting his waist, Diego clenches his raised fist, pinning Klaus down using the other by the hip as he writhes beneath him.

“Please, please, please, not the face!” Klaus cries desperately, clawing and bucking beneath him in a sad attempt to throw him off.

“You’re sick.” Diego snarls, faking a forward move to strike that leaves Klaus flinching and howling, but still rubbing up into him, chasing the contact.

“Yes, yes, I’m sick, sick.” Klaus chants helplessly, struggling futilely in the superior grip, face twisted shut as he awaits the blow to come, mouth parting obscenely as he ruts.

“You’re f-filthy and disgusting and that story is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard…” Diego groans as words begin to fail him. He falls forward on top of Klaus, knocking the wind out of both of them as he wraps his fist around Klaus’ neck and squeezes.

“Oh, oh, shit! Choking isn’t the reprimand I would’ve chosen…but…” Klaus splutters out before Diego closes off his airway, still pressing up into the vice-like grip even as his lungs begin to give out.

Rearing up suddenly, Diego shifts up onto his elbows before stunning them both as he bites into Klaus’ neck, clamping down until he breaks the skin. He can feel Klaus screaming silently beneath his closed fist, throat straining in shock and excitement. His erection brushes Klaus’, too hot and wet in his leather pants, feeling the catch of the material slide underneath him and it’s all it takes for his body to stop fight and give over. His knee forces its way between Klaus’ thighs, the legs beneath him giving access easily. Scrabbling heels attempting to force him closer slip and slide before finding purchase on his ass.

When he begins moving, the pace is so brutal Diego knows he’s not going to last. The ancient mattress creeks sharply beneath them as he pants and never lets up his strangle hold on Klaus’ throat, relishing in the feeling of dominance. He’s grinding Klaus into the mattress so hard he hopes it will leave bruises, bites the opposite side of his neck with equal force so he knows he does, shuddering as he feels Klaus scream again under his hand. He marks him up like’s he’s his territory, unwilling to admit that he’s now marked Diego as well, by ruining his clothes and pissing all over his self-control. He’s rubbed himself raw against his own stupid uniform but it’s so painful that he’s euphoric, feels it coming on hard as his rhythm begins to falter. Klaus gets a hand between between them, shoving the destroyed underwear down just far enough to free his dick before he begins stripping it frantically. He’s moving erratically, free hand coming to cling around Diego’s at the base of his throat in a silent bid to increase the pressure.

Diego complies, ever the giver, pressing him hard into the mattress by the throat as Klaus cums with a shriek that pierces through his burned airways. Thick spurts of it shoot between them, slicking the contact between their bodies as Diego runs his free forearm through it, painting Klaus’ torso as he continues to fuck him roughly through the death throes of his pleasure.

Once Klaus stills, his cock still twitching feebly through the briefs between them, Diego maintains his hold on his throat, using the cum between their bodies to improve his traction as he drives his hips mercilessly. His orgasm is just out of reach, but the masochist in him drags it out a little longer, enjoy the torturous slip of the leather along Klaus’ spent body. He snaps out of his own mindless daze, alerted by a different kind of whine, and nearly bites through his own lip when he finally opens his eyes to look at Klaus’ face again. His ruined lips are moving wordlessly, praying to no one, covered in spit as drool runs freely down his chin. The curtains of his thick eyelashes are dazzling, scattered with tears. Rivers of water pour from his eyes, gushing down his face, and he’s hiccupping with it, so sore and over sensitised and fucked out.

He is breathtakingly beautiful and Diego almost isn’t quick enough as he drags himself upright, deftly unbuttoning his pants and just pulling out his cock in time to shoot his load all over Klaus’ achingly ruined face, open mouthed and unexpecting. He shouts with the force of it as his back arches, forcing his eyes open to watch the tidal wave of cum crash decimate the perfectly pointed nose, splashing his heavy eye lids and the wet curls at the base of his hairline.

“Fuck me.” Diego groans from his spot on his knees. His shirt suddenly feels like it’s choking him so he rips it off, nearly toppling over in the process, before leaning forward to catch his breath with his hands on his shaking thighs.

“Maybe, but could you at least shower first? I can’t believe you just assaulted me in your filthy work clothes. That was kind of gross, man!” Klaus says, wiping a hand over the bodily fluids on his face, before flicking the fluids with the rest onto his torso, drops of drying cum splashing Diego in the process.

“Yeah, I’m the disgusting one.” Diego rolls his eyes as he tucks himself gingerly back into his pants, unable to help but stare at the work of art that is Klaus’ bare torso, glistening with sweat and semen. It’s pornographic and so wrong and it’s Klaus that he just got off with like a horny teenager.

 _Fuck_.

Klaus catches his wandering gaze and grins lasciviously, and Diego knows even in his post-orgasm haze that he’s going to regret it immediately.

“You have no idea.”

Without breaking eye contact, Klaus drags his long, thin fingers through the mess bodily fluids at an excruciatingly lazy pace. He runs his hand all the way down to his pubic hair before trailing it back up again. Diego nearly swallows his own tongue when Klaus shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking obscenely and swallowing down hungrily.

Diego doesn’t trust himself to speak at first and when he does, Klaus cuts him off with a noisy burp.

“Are you done?” Diego asks impatiently, cracking his neck in an attempt to focus now that he’s coming back to himself. All the reactive emotions have been drained out through his dick and common sense has returned and now he has to figure out how to avert the panic stations beginning to fire in his head. It’s not even the fact that he grew up considering Klaus his brother. Even if there are no biological ties and as an adult, it’s more like coming home to an old family friend (there’s that word again), he needs to know where they stand. This isn’t just some one-night stand he can slip out the window from and avoid.

“Are you not?” Klaus returns smartly, head lolling to the side, misunderstanding, “Because if you need to want to go again, big boy, I’m gunna to take five…”

“N-no, I mean, y-yes…!” Diego stammers, his emerging stutter and too-high voice betraying his sudden nerves, dropping his head into his hands, breathing too fast. This might be the closest thing to a panic attack that he’s ever experienced. He focuses on the words that are swirling around too quickly in his head and misses the sound of the bed creaking. There is suddenly a solid weight on his shoulders, straightening his back as they push him upright.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s the matter, Dee? Look at me…come on, now.” When he won’t, can’t, firm hands, gentle but strong fingers wrap around his wrists. His head is cloudy and his tongue feels like led, but when Diego opens his eyes, Klaus is the opposite of all the fears in his head. His hands have moved to cup Diego’s face, warm and very much alive. The only hint of concern fades when Diego is able to finally look up. There’s no revulsion or rejection or regret there, just a genuine warmth, like he’s sex sated and might even be amused if Diego wasn’t clearly having some sort of meltdown.

“I know it’s hard, but try me. What’s wrong?” Klaus presses gently, stroking the side of Diego’s face. The pressure of having to speak has all the warring feelings constricting Diego’s chest again, but he tries all the same, clearly growing more agitated and panicked with each failed pronunciation.

“K-Klaus…I-I-I…t-t-tonight…t-this….” When he’s cut off, it isn’t by his own impediment, but by Klaus.

Before he can manage his next mangled attempt at speech, Klaus darts forward with shocking speed and seals his stammering lips with his own, causing Diego to squeak in shock.

The feeling of stubble on his jaw and around his mouth are foreign, but not as off putting as he would’ve expected. Klaus’ lips are as maddeningly plush as they’ve always looked, whether accentuated by Allison’s make up or blush and bare. The kiss begins with hesitant gentleness, tenderly like he’s scared Diego might spook. Once he’s noted that the trembling has ceased all together in surprise, he moves more confidently, taking the lead with practised ease. Diego’s dark brown eyes widen even more when Klaus re-angles his head to deepen the contact, releasing a startled moan when Klaus’ tongue pushes further, licking into his mouth, his tongue thick and wet and gloriously smooth. Klaus moans back and Diego’s eyes nearly roll back into his head when he feels the vibration in the back of his throat.

The exchange is both a blissful eternity and painfully short. Diego holds himself back from chasing the sensation when Klaus breaks off. He doesn’t start too far though, remaining close as he watches Diego’s expression. Once he’s sure he’s breathing again, his usual playfulness returns, prettily offset by his rosy cheeks.

“Just give it a second. Nod once if you’re alright.” Diego nods, swallows hard. Klaus grins practically sparkles as he moves to gently caress Diego’s cheek and it’s so soothing that it hurts.

“I know you’re not dead, so I can’t read your mind or anything, but I have a good sense for these things. I understand what you’re going through. There’s no need to freak out, alright?” Diego frowns, opens his mouth to speak, but Klaus continues with his monologue, stroking gently.

“I know the sex education we had in here was non-existent, what you’re going through is an extremely normal range of emotions for this particular situation. It’s been a while since I’ve been through it, but I’ve been there, okay?”

He’s been… _where_? Diego’s mind must be switching back online because it starts to race through the possibilities. Klaus never seemed that interested in the girls, but him and Ben were always joined at the hip. Maybe it was more than just being the odd ones out? Luther. The anger and possessiveness that the thought of Number One and Number Four together inspires hurts Diego so badly that he visibly winces. Klaus doesn’t seem to pick up on his revelations about their teenager sexual dalliances, too caught up in his own philosophising.

“And if Dad is worrying at your conscience, let him roll in his grave, I say! It will just be another one in a long line of disappointments…”

“You’re saying you got off with one of our siblings?” Diego interrupts suddenly, finding his voice. “

Come again?” Klaus replies, thick eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

“It’s fine.” Diego blurts out, and once his lips start moving again, the words are pouring out of him, “We weren’t exactly a regular family dynamic and never leaving the house, you gotta get your rocks off where you can, right? I have no problem with that. But I don’t ever want to hear the details…especially if it was Luther…just don’t tell me at all, yeah?”

Klaus looks at him coyly for a second to double check that he is serious before he bursts into a fit of laughter, dropping his hands to clutch at his sides.

“Oh, oh my god, no, no, no, no.” Klaus giggles, wiping hysterical tears from his eyes, “Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I was tempted but Ben was…is my best friend. I’m not going to lie and say Luther isn’t easy on the old drug addled eyes, but any attraction ended when his conversational skills were limited to the moon. Also kinda gross that the only man boner he ever had was for that grotesque tyrant he liked to think of as Father of The Year, am I right?”

Diego has gone silent again, putting his old competitiveness back into its internal box as his mind ticks over.

“So, what did you think I was freaking out over, exactly?” “Oh, that.” Klaus remarks offhandedly, putting on his best sensitive voice as he considers, “I mean, it’s been a long time and you’ve never mentioned any sort of significant other aside from your friend Detective Patch since the family band has got back together. I just thought maybe it was your first time…”

“I’M NOT A VIRGIN, GODDAMIT!” Diego finds himself shouting back and yeah, there is no way half the house didn’t hear that.

“…with a man.” Klaus finishes and a deafening silence falls between them.

Despite the complete comedy of errors that this communication breakdown has resulted in, Klaus regards him with complete sincerity, patiently waiting for his response when the lane is wide open to tease him mercilessly. Diego is so exhausted, emotionally and physically drained by the whole thing, that were it anyone else, he’s not sure he could continue, that his voice and spirit would hold up to the brutal reality of it. But it’s Klaus, who underneath the biting sarcasm and self-deprecative defence mechanisms, really truly cares that Diego is okay and doesn’t have to go through any of this alone.

It takes an eternity, but when he finally spits it out, it’s like a weight has been lifted off Diego’s shoulders.

“It is, but it’s isn’t about that…it-t’s…about…it’s you, Klaus.”

Pride swells in his chest when he gets the last part out without his voice breaking. The same warmth is reflected in Klaus’ eyes and as his lips flutter open and then shut again, he looks completely lost for words, vulnerable and scared and hopefully all at once.

Sensing it’s his turn to do something about this, it’s Diego’s turn to act. He moves in carefully, gently grabbing Klaus by the jaw and guiding their lips together. Their noses bump harshly and it doesn’t fit right and their teeth clash, and Diego knows it awful, but any trepidation about messing it up leaves him when Klaus giggles and his green eyes shutter shut like he’s in a trance once they start getting into the rhythm of it. When Diego pulls off panting, never having needed air so badly in his life, he’s shockingly half hard again. Klaus is similarly affected and staring at him dreamily before snapping out of it, loose curls bobbing with the effort as he shakes himself out of it.

“So, we’re cool?” Diego manages finally, shakily. “Frosty.” Klaus croons, bumping their foreheads together and it’s enough. The sentiment is ruined prematurely when Diego shoves Klaus in the chest with a single hand, pushing him back into the mattress with a startled shriek.

“What the hell, Dee?” Klaus cries out, sitting up indignantly on his elbows. “That’s for fucking with my stuff.” Diego grins cockily, watching frustration at the baby brother treatment warring with a flush of desire at his arrogance war across Klaus’ angular features.

“All I’m getting from this is that you want these back right now…” Klaus smirks back, playing idly with the waistband of the underwear, the itching sensation from the drying cum still sticking to his body only ruining the affect slightly.

The threat isn’t lost on Diego, whose usually calm gaze widens comically, figuring out all too late. Klaus’ teeth are shark-like in the darkness and he dives onto Diego before he can escape, covering him with his body and their shared fluids, kissing his neck and wrapping himself around him.

From Klaus’ room upstairs, Ben lifts his head when Diego’s girlish scream echoes through the halls. When Klaus’ maniacal cackling follows, the happiest sound that the walls have heard in decades, Ben sighs fondly and disappears.

“Idiots.”


End file.
